


Penguins

by AChelseaBoot



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 5sos is better at dancing than one direction, Animosity, Climate Change, Dance parties, Dancing, Gay Stuff, Grinding, Hot Sex, Kissing, M/M, Minor Michael Clifford/Harry Styles, Penguins, Sex, and falling, and then we fell, and touching, arguably - Freeform, butt stuff, falling, for you, like no one else, minor ashton irwin/gemma styles, more penguins, scuba, slow builds but damnnn does the titanic go down, tpwk, until i fell, we love penguins, you're pretty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26055184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AChelseaBoot/pseuds/AChelseaBoot
Summary: Penguin populations in the Antarctic are great tellers of how the climate is doing--so when all of Michael's internship opportunities fall through,Dr. Hemmings offers a lifetime opportunity to study in the Antarctic. Of course, it's important to carefully choose who you're going to be trapped for six months on a boat to go measure penguins. You wouldn't want to be stuck with someone you hate. Or embodied goof balls who become your best mates. Or a sexy chef. It's important to be around those you love, if not because you love them, then because this way you can keep an eye on them. Some of these boys are bad men, and really need to feel loved if they are going to become a better, better man. This entire thing is very silly by the way."Michael sat on me and I farted.""It smells nice.""No it doesn't.""I've been looking for a reason to say this, Luke shut up."
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings
Kudos: 3





	1. "Opportunity"

His phone buzzed, the vibration travelling into the bones of his hand. Michael cracked his eyes to check the bright lock screen. 7:23 am. Without reading the message, he stroked the top of the phone and the screen went dark.

There had been an image in his head just before, a close up, distorted scene involving a bag of mangoes that he’d been consulting with two women whether to buy or not.

His mind had awoken though. A little early morning distress making it hard to enjoy the bedding. An application for a seabird project that he should hear back from today. He would have to check his phone to know he didn’t make it, again. For an aspiring scientist, that’s it’s like a much more sedated version of a crackhead denied of cocaine.

First had been all eight Research Experiences for Undergrads (REUs) that had already rejected him. Not because he was a bad student, not because he didn’t have potential, not because he hadn’t proven himself and his interest over and over. But…he was white and male, and REUs traditionally to help the less privileged first, understandably, or those students going to those universities, and Michael’s university didn’t have an REU for marine science majors. He’d just been unlucky, probably, or he really wasn’t supposed to go into marine sciences.

It had been a little sad when his research advisor had decided to go on well-deserved sabbatical, though. That made it impossible for undergraduates working with him to do any work over the summer. That had been why Michael applied for what looked like a mediocre position at Melbourne. A nice change of pace would be to tag seagulls at the beach for a couple weeks. Sunshine, data points, ice cream, girls, sand in his shorts, crabs, scientific progress, peeling skin, sharks. Maybe he’d see someone get pooped on.

For a few more moments he tried to relax himself back into the distorted grocery shopping dream. A lady had been telling him there was only one way to go down the aisle, but every time he tried to go down the aisle there would be a split where he could choose to go left or right. Annoyingly, thoughts about whether he would do any research in the upcoming months kept cropping up in his head. 7:23 am was the equivalent of two hours and thirty-three minutes of sleep for Michael. If he was doing math, he was awake. Michael turned on his phone. Under the time (7:28 am) and date, 08 April, was an email from The Hemmings Lab from the University of Melbourne. He didn’t notice his breath hitch as he opened his phone and read:

_Dear Mr. Clifford,_

_I’d like to thank you for applying to the Hemmings Lab Seagull Monitoring internship._

__

Any letter from an internship that didn’t start with ‘congrats’ probably wasn’t good.

__

_Unfortunately, this position is no longer available as someone from the Hemmings Lab has agreed to do the data collection. We’re very thankful again for your time to fill out our application. Please watch for more opportunities coming out of our labs._

__

Great.

__

__

He didn’t need to finish the letter. Instead he skimmed to the bottom line. Michael was beginning to dream about a very dark, stormy scene when his phone rang. Automatically he answered, rolling onto his back with a hand acting as a blind fold over his face against the creeping sunlight. “Yeah?”

__

“Michael, did Hemmings get back to you,” it was his advisor, Dr. Armstrong. Dr. Armstrong either didn’t sleep a lot, or he slept too much. Anywhere from one hour to sixteen hours to two days. He had a shaggy black bowl haircut, thick eyelashes, and never seemed to belong in any of his clothes, everything was just slightly too big for him, and gave him the appearance of being very youthful despite being in his forties. His colleagues made fun of him for looking like a graduate student, and Dr. Armstrong called them out too for being as old as he was too. 

__

“Yeah,” Michael rubbed his eye. “I didn’t get it.”

__

Dr. Armstrong laughed and Michael felt slightly offended. The young man tried to explain himself, “I probably should have asked for a third recommendation letter, but I just had three exams back to back the week of when I was supposed to be asking for those.”

__

“I’m friends with Liz Hemmings,” the older man sounded sly. Michael thought this must be a clue, but he had no idea where he was going. “You could say I’m part of the inner circle.”

__

“Yeah.”

__

“There are some seabirds that are more exciting than others to study.”

__

“I don’t think so.”

__

“No?”

__

“I was definitely looking forward though to scraping gull guano off of rocks.”

__

“Does penguin shit tickle you too?”

__

Pause. “If this is where you’re going, yeah, I’d love to pick up some penguin shit.” 

__

Dr. Armstrong cackled. “Michael, this what I’m about to offer you, is a once in a fucking lifetime opportunity. Not only because of Climate Change,” Dr. Armstrong knew he had Michael’s attention, because he started to drag out his point. “I am singling you out of my undergraduates because I think you have the best balance between individual motivation and teamwork, and Dr. Hemmings needs another pair of hands controlled by someone who is not…barnacle brained on her research cruise down into the Antarctic for a climate change census. I recommended you.”

__

Michael dropped his phone. It landed with a soft thud on the cushion next to his head. To the ceiling he screamed, ‘Oh my god.’ 

__

“Michael?”

__

He fumbled to retrieve the phone. “Sorry, I was venting. Oh my god.”

__

“Completely understandable.”

__

“Are you going?” Michael had picked himself up onto his elbow, looking around his room and already wondering what to pack.

__

“No, I’m going to be in New Zealand with the third Mrs. Armstrong. Then I’m hosting a conference discussing fishing quotas in Sydney this August. Hemmings said there wasn’t room in the budget for a helicopter to pick me up from the South Pole.”

__

Jesus, he was smiling to himself, shaking his head. “Good luck. About the trip, I have a lot of questions. Who else will be on it, when are we going and what am I supposed to do?”

__

“Dr. Hemmings wants to meet you first. Obviously, a trip like this takes time to organize, and here’s one of the reasons why the original person in your position chose to do seagulls instead— it’s not a six or eight week gig, it’s six months.”

__

Michael opened and closed his mouth. “I’d miss next semester.”

__

“Correct. Do you want some time to think about missing university?”

__

To empty air, Michael shrugged. After a beat he responded coolly, “No, I’d rather be on a tropical island in the middle of nowhere surrounded by penguins.”

__

“You’ll end up in the Australian Antarctic territory, actually. And some volcanic-glacial islands. No, none of the birds you’re worrying about are in the tropics.” Dr. Armstrong wasn’t telling Michael off. As a matter of fact, many penguin species were tropical, such as those living on the African coastline.

__

“That just sounds cooler.”

__

“It will be cool, really cold. Endless white ice.”

__

“That’s my street name.”

__

“No, Clifford, I mean it’s cold.”

__

“I own a ninja turtle onesie that’s pretty warm.”

__

“That’s my boy. I told Dr. Hemmings you’ve dyed your hair to let everyone know where you are at all times. She’ll be expecting something spectacular to stand out against the ice, if she takes you on.”

__

Michael thought that was kind of weird, do all professors talk about the hair of their undergrads? He decided not to ask. “I can do that.”

__

_____________

__

“Hiya—I’m Ashton Irwin. I’m here for the boat trip.”

__

Calum looked up. “I’m Calum,” he blinked at Ashton. Ashton was curly haired and dimple cheeked. He was wearing a weird and terrible purple shirt. He had left a push scooter outside on the front step. Calum could see it through the glass paned door. “You’re from Sydney’s graduate program.”

__

“That’s right, but I’ve been in the UK for the last year.”

__

“That’s cool. I might apply for Sydney someday.”

__

“I recommend it, it’s a great program.”

__

Calum was feeling hopeful. Maybe this guy was cool. They chatted for a few more moments, but Calum was about to head out of the lab. “Liz is gone for the rest of the day. Where are you staying?”

__

“I was going to drive back later, actually,” Ashton chirped. Calum glanced at the push scooter outside again. He wondered if Ashton had brought that with him, or if that was his ride. An image of Ashton with a helmet squashed over his curls chugging down the freeway with a line of cars disappearing into the distance blossomed into the forefront of his mind.

__

Calum smiled very widely but then tried to suppress his feelings of amusement. “Oh, why don’t you crash at mine?”

__

“That’d be great, thanks mate.”

__

Calum’s apartment was conveniently nearby. They talked about Melbourne versus Sydney and ecological and conservation research as they walked, Ashton pushing his scooter along, until Calum had shown Ashton around his apartment and grabbed seltzer water to drink on the couch. Weird shirt and scooter aside, Ashton seemed alright.

__

“Do you play FIFA?” Calum was excited.

__

Ashton was looking over one of the posters taped to Calum’s wall. “No, I don’t like FIFA.”

__

“Oh,” he blinked. Calum wasn’t sure Ashton was going to fit in with the lab group.

__

Melbourne University was good, beautiful, getting hot in late April. In preparation for meeting his potential future boss, he had dyed his hair again. It was very white, pure, and a black streak went up the middle, so it looked as though he had glued an inverted skunk to the top of his head.

__

The lab in question was overlooking the harbor, set back from the main street and built in a stony, concrete way that wasn’t very attractive. He was pulling out his earbuds as he used his elbow to push the glass door back enough to come in. “What’s up,” he said to the guy on his phone manspreading with flipflops in a swivel chair nearly directly in front of him, and the quietly attractive girl behind the desk that was picking through a sandwich.

__

“We’re good today,” she responded, corner of her mouth twitching as she absorbed Michael’s image and glanced down again. “I like your hair.”

__

“Thanks.”

__

Michael looked at the boy again. The guy looked like an undergraduate like him, dressed in khaki shorts and a V-neck button up shirt. He looked up cheerfully. “Hiya,” was the response.

__

“I’m looking for Dr. Hemmings,” Michael looked between them.

__

“She’ll be coming out,” the boy looked around, preparing to rise from his chair.

__

“Right here,” Dr. H came around the corner and beckoned for Michael to come with her outside. Whereas Dr. Armstrong was an aging, twitchy kid, Dr. Hemmings appeared to be a pleasant, warm-faced matriarch with wavy blonde hair and a sweet but energetic character.

__

“Come on,” they sat on two plastic deck chairs overlooking a dingy alleyway and the harbor. A few scraggly trees rose out of the rising hill directly in front of them. Dr. Hemmings took a sip from a water bottle and put an ankle over her knee as she settled back. “How are you doing?”

__

“Great. I wasn’t expecting the lab to have this.” He gestured at the view.

__

“This building wasn’t originally a research facility,” Dr. Hemmings shrugged. “Perks and downfalls, you know. We had a working laundry machine downstairs until a few months ago that was pretty good at getting the fish smell out of clothes. But let’s not talk about that, I wanted to find out more about you. You have a nice resume. And Billy didn’t lie about your hair color, that's a fabulous hairdo.”

__

“Thanks.”

__

“The trip means not being back in time for next semester.”

__

“I know.”  
  


__

“Alright, what can you tell me about where you’ll be in five years?”

__

And Michael described how he wasn’t completely sure, but he loves the ocean, and he thinks he’s going to go to graduate school at the end of college, and oh penguins are amazing. Definitely more amazing than baking in classrooms next September.

__

“We’re seeing a rise in a population of penguins in the Antarctic circle due to climate change,” Dr. Hemmings dipped her head and looked at him steadily through her glasses. “But most penguin populations have been declining. So, we got a grant to survey penguins all over the Antarctic in conjunction with a larger ecosystem project.”

__

“Wow.”

__

“Everywhere from volcanic glacial islands to the Antarctic.”

__

“Uh, sign me up.”

__

“Hold on,” Liz sipped from her bottle again. “So, you’ll really be the last person to sign the contract assuming you’re interested in the position once you’ve heard everything—we have a few expectations for this research assistant. You’ll handle a lot of the evidence we collect. Storing, weighing, measuring things. You’ll be expected to carry things around and help set up equipment. Some duties will probably pop up during the trip and we’ll need your help with those. We’re going to try to have everyone present something at least once during the cruise during evening powerpoint dish and spills. Probably you’ll be working with Ashton but you might end up with Gemma—we’ll see if she needs help.”

__

__

“Ok.”

__

__

“And the most important part of your job will be data formatting and organization. Because a lot of data is still first recorded on paper. Someone needs to go through and put it into the shared google drive with proper analysis. We’d walk you through the procedure, we’re not just going to leave you hanging,” she laughed without humor. “Do you have any experience with data analysis?”

__

“Yes,” barely, he had barely ever done it, he had really just taken a course in statistics, but Michael was going to research everything to do with data analysis later.

__

“Taking a census really means collecting data. This won't be anything cutting edge exactly, even though we're looking at the consequences of climate change really. We’re using drones, collecting guano samples--.” Michael knew it. “Some offshore catching to see what the diets might be made of, water samples, you’ll be looking for certain patterns, numbers—making tables for the types or number of fish we catch and things,” and she explained, and then she explained how he would be on a ship or overseas exploring nonstop for six months, away from friends and family, that it could be lonely, that people usually got seasick if they didn’t take proper precautions, how it could be cramped and uncomfortable and his personal space would be limited, and he’d be expected to be kind, considerate, a good sport, help out wherever and whenever he could, and enjoy himself too. Here were certain procedures, calculations, that he’d have to learn to do the job well. 

__

“Climate change is really shaping the world we live in,” he observed.

__

Dr. Hemmings nodded, her eyes sharply focused on Michael. He was seeing another side to her. “Penguins are one of the best way to observe the effects of climate change on the polar and global oceanic ecosystem.”

__

“And the ocean literally influences the health and wellbeing of the entire planet because like, 71% of the earth is just covered in water.”

__

“Exactly. And that percentage is only going to go up in coming decades,” she sipped from her bottle again. “That’s also why I emphasized undergraduate involvement on this trip. Environmental devastation and restoration will be the greatest priority for the rest of the twenty-first century. The heaviest weight of what my generation and our parent’s generation and what our grandparents have done will fall on you.”

__

“Unless reincarnation is real.”

__

“What?”

__

“Then all the old people saying they’re not going to do anything and want my generation to deal with it would be the ones taking the biggest blow.”  
  


__

Dr. Hemmings regarded Michael with far-off amusement. “You’re kind of cheeky, Clifford.”

__

__

“Were you looking at other applicants?” Michael asked suddenly, coming out of the trance of excited anticipation for the voyage and reliving through the glazing amounts of online forms he had filled out in the last two semesters for internships. “I mean, sorry, how real is this for me?”

__

__

Dr. Hemmings kept smiling, but the expression was fixed. “My son was originally coming,” she said. “And this is what we consider to be a last-minute change, since we’re literally leaving in four days. Everyone else has been set for this for the past four months. I’m glad we met someone like you with the experience to do this.”

__

__

Michael blinked and nodded understandingly, though he did not understand. “Oh, that’s—sure.”

__

__

“Oh yeah,” Dr. Hemmings agreed immediately, her face remaining expressionless. “He has this big, social life that he has to keep up with. He spends a lot of time out with friends. He’s doing a self-development phase here.”

__

__

“We all have those,” Michael agreed, cringing deep down.

__

__

“I think so, I think so,” she was bobbing her head up and down dramatically. “Yeah, it’s all fine. He’ll be doing that seagull data collection you didn’t get, actually,” her eyes were twinkling with amusement and Michael grimaced. The motherfucker. He had just pulled out of responsibilities for a less high maintenance job when his mom was counting on him so he could have fun. That had caused her to scramble, maybe panic a little at the thought of being one essential member short. The only silver-lining was that Michael got to go on the very exciting adventure while her kid got to sit on his butt, hopefully getting pooped on by seagulls. Michael quickly turned his grimace into a placatory smile before Hemmings would notice his lack of amusement, but she had turned away.

__

__

“And something I was looking for in the data analysis, apart from the computer job, I was hoping someone could fill in who could scuba for when we’re down around the islands and south pole. It’s just a bonus, not a requirement.”

__

__

“Oh, I’m licensed. I’ve never done like, scuba in the Antarctic—.”

__

__

“You’ll love it dear. A couple of the boys on the crew are master scuba divers so, there’s no disappointment if you’re not. It’s surprisingly more difficult than walking on the moon, but no one’s died yet.” Liz winked in hardcore scuba diver fashion. “Let’s go over the papers. Can you get the maroon folder on top of my desk in the office?”

__

\--

__

There weren’t words to say what he was, and there weren’t ears that could drink. Straight was directioned, gay was too happy, and bi was too in between.

__

__

The night would start at three with the first drink and the first laughs. The morning came with the dark shadows and haunted blues. And then it fell to clothes to color him in between. Suede Chelsea and heeled black boots that made his entire length actualized. Skintight jeans or tailored dress pants over miles of shaved leg. Longer, slimmer, sleeker, more elegant. A body on flexible stilts, carrying a house of secrets and illusions. And inside a disco ball with so many bodies, he stood out anonymously.

__

__

Someone who needed to be, Someone who wanted to be, Someone who needed and wanted to give it too.

__

__

His hair was growing long and unkempt, almost to his shoulders, frayed and broken like too much salt water had split not just roots but his brain and everything exposed was sunbleached and unrequitedly ruined. He tossed it back, once, twice, drink and hair, and slid forward towards the corner of the room again where the party’s host had been. The aromatic perfume he’d noticed on her had been strengthened by sweat and tequila.

__

__

“Congrats on your engagement,” he shouted at her over the music, his hand on her elbow.

__

__

She turned and seemed to say “what?” as loudly as she could, and so he repeated himself, and both of them were soon clutching each other, laughing, and yelling words that they couldn’t hear at one another.

__

__

Others. Some were laughing and talking or watching the adorable bachelorette and the slender man. When Luke became aware of them, he stood straight, the girl wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him closely for moment before she got carried away. A secret and discrete telecommunication occurred when his eyes landed on half-unbuttoned white shirt.

__

__

They saw what he saw, knew what he knew, felt what he wanted them to feel when their eyes strayed but then glued to his silk shirt. Hot, burning but contained, uncombusted. One of them downed a shot and went around the table towards him.

__

__

Luke waved with his fingers. It was ironic, cruel, a little bit awkward and virgin. The other man snatched it out of the air, whistling, and spun Luke in a twirl that nearly sent him crashing into him, as though he was new to this too. Both were laughing, Luke was still leaning very close into him and the other man wasn’t pulling away.

__

__

It felt good to align with another body. No embarrassed fumbling because all the ironic humor and alcohol had made all explanations already, unspoken contracts invisibly signed for where tonight may go. They danced, Luke sinking low and rising up so that he grinded against the man’s thighs and pelvis and chest every time he did so, meeting his expression and not surprised when a hand would go to his jean covered hip and slip onto his ass to draw him close so they all at once were acting out an amateur dirty dancing.

__

__

“How hot are you?” the man asked Luke, an arm around his waist while Luke’s fingers slid up and down the hem of the other man’s jacket, hot breath on his face. It was the first time either of them had actually said words to each other. His voice was ironic too, probably meant this man was intelligent by day. Maybe he was mocking how much Luke liked himself. Maybe he was mocking how much he liked Luke. Maybe he was mocking both of them for creating their own oven of attraction. Luke puckered his lips. So cute, that clean shaven face. One of his hands slipped into the man’s hair.

__

__

“Are you going to fuck me hard?”

__

__

“Yeah,” the other man agreed.

__

__

Luke felt the strange man’s face, everything pleasantly fuzzy. This man wasn’t accusing him of being forward. “I just wanted to know. I don’t think there’s anything wrong about knowing what you want and who you want it with.”

__

__

“That’s so thoughtful.” He kissed Luke’s cheekbone. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

__

__

“Do I need one?”

__

__

There was a pause to allow for drunken confusion. “No, you wouldn’t be here.”

__

__

Luke put a leg between the man’s legs and this time the stranger pressed up against him. A little exclamation came from Luke and he smirked through half lowered lids. “This is as high as I go.”

__

__

“Already?”

__

__

“Not like that but it’s going to happen, honey.”

__

__

They ended up walking. Luke liked the air tonight, and He the Hookup was too drunk to unlock the car. Luke had the common sense to say they shouldn’t drive anywhere. It was so silly they were laughing, describing everything that had happened to each other in dribbles starting from the moment they had woken up that morning. He stepped out onto the street after him.

__

__

Someone was screaming his name, and Luke managed to stumble out of the blinding lights, a car screeching by with its horn blasting. A hand was on his jacket, pulling him so far onto the sidewalk that he was collapsed in the bush when it stopped. Someone was laughing. “Dude, you’re such an idiot, you almost got killed.”

__

The guy had his hand on his belt, leaning over Luke. He groaned. “I don’t feel so good.”

__

_I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to fuck me,_ Luke looked up at the light-polluted sky. _As soon as I stand up._ There was probably an appropriate alleyway or clump of trees somewhere.

__

Afterwards

__

Michael was smiling to himself when he rounded the corner towards the glass door. The girl who had liked his hair earlier was gone, but a new guy had joined Calum, except he was sprawled across a couch instead of sitting in a swivel chair.

__

“So, you’re on the boat?” Calum looked up.

__

“Yup.”

__

Calum held out a hand and Michael slapped-grabbed it.

__

The other guy looked around. “I’m Ashton Irwin, hi mate.”

__

“This is Michael, I think he’s cool.”

__

Michael and Ashton shook hands the same way Calum and Michael had.

__

“What do you do?” Michael looked at them.

__

“I work for Liz, but Ashton’s a graduate student from Sydney.”

__

They joked for a moment about work and travel.

__

“Where are you going now?” Michael asked them as Calum stood up.

__

__

“Ah, Mexican grill?” he looked around and Ashton grimaced and shrugged. “Don’t look too happy.”

__

“We had tacos for lunch, Calum.”

__

“Nah, pizza,” Michael said. “Embrace your Italian heritage.”

__

__

“I doubt any of us are Italian.”

__

__

“Most Australians are the descendants of UK expats.”

__

Calum: “I’m half-kiwi.”

__

Michael: “I’d rather be a strawberry, or something, like a vegetable.”

__

Ashton: “Kiwi means New Zealander, Michael.”

__

Michael: “I was making a stupid joke.”

__

Calum: “It was so stupid, we weren't prepared for it.”

__

Michael: “Shut up. ... Can I still get pizza with you guys?”

__

Ashton: “I think we should meet in the middle and go for Sushi.”

__

Calum: “That’s not remotely the middle.”

__

Michael: “No, let’s actually meet in the middle for real: Korean Barbecue.”

__

Ashton: “That’s not the middle either.”

__

Michael: “It became the middle after you said sushi. Sushi is Japanese, but Mexican is warm and spicy, Korean isn’t Japanese and barabecue is also warm and or spicy.”

__

Calum: “You know, I can get behind Korean barbecue.”

__

Ashton: “Can we go to the karaoke place by the beach?”

__

Calum: “How do you know about that place?”

__

Michael: “Yeah.”

__

________________________________________________________

__

Luke went into the lab the next day on a full eight hours of sleep, which pleased him. He had a sore spot on his left buttock that he know would pinch and hurt all day, the man who had taken part of him and left part of him imprinted like an extra aura all over him from the bachelorette party. The after-afterglow of sex, making him feel slightly violated and sad under all the let-down of ecstasy. 

__

“Morning, boys,” he walked into the computer office, but not before waving at Calum and another undergraduate. Ashton turned his head from where he’d been hunched staring into a computer monitor. “Morning, mate.”

__

“Ready for the trip?” Luke asked. Ashton had become an everyday fixture in the labs for the last two weeks while they prepared for launch. Luke rather liked him. Ashton was cheery and carefree but very kind. The combination didn’t go hand in hand frequently in anyone but dorky nerd friends…which Ashton probably was now that he thought about it. He’d have to revise how much he valued his smart friends.

__

“We have six hundred water assessment programs ready,” Ashton assured Luke. “I had to order more first kits today, but they’ll be here by Monday for Tuesday’s launch.”

__

A fizzle of excitement ignited in Luke’s gut. He hadn’t anticipated any feeling about the idea. “What are you doing on the trip?”

__

“My project is ‘Circumpolar hydrospheric studies in relation to micronutrient flow and upwelling along the Antarctic coastline,’” Ashton had sat back, opening up his body language and inviting Luke in. _Someday_ , _Ashton was going to be a beloved professor_ , Luke thought, a spot on his neck where he’d been kissed flaring up unexpectedly. “We’re looking for how the patterns of planktonic bloom have changed with the shifting in currents. There’s been some really interesting changes in ocean warming and cooling in past two or three decades compared to the hundreds of years before now—and all of this is ultimately going to tie into my research dissertation on oceanic ecological conservation. But for this trip I’m trying to focus on how the physical environment’s changes are affecting the biological patterns.”

__

“That’s really big,” Luke observed, impressed. “I guess that’s why you collaborate with my Mom, she focuses a lot of her last work in the last ten years on ecological shifting.”

__

“Yes exactly!” Ashton looked happy.

__

“I love how passionate all marine scientists seem to be.”

__

Ashton whacked him across the knee. “I can’t believe you’re not coming. No offense mate, but who would want to tag seagulls instead of being surrounded by millions of penguin especially right NOW when there might not be that many penguins in the future?”

__

__

Luke’s mouth open and closed. “I used to really love penguins, actually.”

__

__

“So why aren’t you coming?”

__

Luke couldn’t think why he wasn’t either at that moment. He’d had good reasons not to come. He’d be missing school and graduate a semester behind his friends. There was a line of parties he already knew he was going to. A group of people were planning a week trip to Japan. He’d be letting go of a community if he just up and left. 

__

__

Ashton had turned back to his computer screen. “Liz just signed someone new to the team.” 

__

“New?”

__

“From Dr. Armstrong’s lab in Sydney. He came recommended.”

__

Great, so he can outshine me. Bitterness. And Luke knew it was his own fault that he didn’t have the same position.

__

__

“I’m glad he can do the job well.”

__

Ashton started to shook his head in disgust at Luke, but then reconsidered his attitude and shrugged. “That’s true.”

__

Luke excused himself for a glass of water. He leaned on the laboratory counter and grimaced out the window. His phone buzzed.

__

_Bitch, ready for another crazy nite_

__

He wondered who this was. And in the next two days, as he passed like a recognizable ship and nothing else through the apartments and bars he normally frequented, the conversation with Ashton stayed in the forefront of his mind. 

__

It came to a head four days later and a day before the boat trip when he finally became bold enough on cheap wine to just say what he’d wanted to say to Liz Hemmings.

__

“You know, I really should come.”

__

Liz looked up at him. “What? We filled in your spot.”

__

“It was something I’ve been thinking about,” he continued. “I thought there were better things to do here…but I’ve always loved penguins, and I can’t forget that even if my interests are elsewhere. It wouldn't be true to myself. I’m going to regret if I don’t come.”

__

His mother looked truly upset. “What are you asking for?” she left a breath for her question gather weight. “We can’t change because you want us to. You do this over and over again and everytime I complain I get shut down for not supporting you. You change your mind as soon as you’ve made it up. You know how unfair this is to everyone? I wouldn’t want you to be a lab assistant, I think you would probably flake.”

__

“I wouldn’t,” Luke replied coldly. He knew himself—when it came to his commitments made ahead of time, he could stay up with deadlines.

__

“You aren’t responsible. You act like a little boy.”

__

“That’s a bit unfair.”

__

Liz again looked very upset. “I don’t have anywhere for you on the boat.”

__

“I’ve been on the boat and I’ve seen the plans,” Luke argued. “There’s still space in the budget for a photographer.”

__

“We don’t need a fucking photographer. Everyone there will have high quality iPhones.”

__

“A professional camera is different,” Luke insisted. “But I get it if I can’t come. I did fuck up. I’ve been fucking around too much probably.”

__

“I think so,” Liz agreed. And Luke reframed from wincing, because this was the first time Liz had ever criticized Luke’s promiscuity. He hadn’t been sure she knew where he was on late Saturdays.

__

“Six months away might be the best thing you could do for me then,” Luke mumbled defeatedly. He wasn’t sure she would relent. He had been shit recently. 

__

For a long time, Liz just stared off to the side of her plate. “I don’t want you to pull any of your crap.”

__

Luke looked around hopefully. “I think I should be keeping an eye on your right now. I don’t know where you’re going to be in five years, Luke. You worry me,” she was starting to look teary eyed.

__

What had he done to deserve a mother that could almost make him feel bad. 

__


	2. "So they depart--Don't let go, Jack!"

The night before disembarking, Luke went with Liz to see the boat at twilight. It was a sprawling 750 ft research vessel equipped with many of the same vestiges Luke was used to seeing on television shows. He imagined if they were going to the South Pole that it must be well insulated. There was no visible lounge gear like on would expect on a regular cruise ship. Instead, he discovered that any recreational space was devoted to a small gym and a large lounge that functioned as a dining hall as well.

His mother was quickly distracted with last minute preparations, leaving Luke to wander around on his own, to the quarters where he’d be moving in the following day, all the way up to the very tippiest point of the ship. He spread his arms, pretending to be an iconic scene from the titanic, and gazed down into the inky, churning waters at the base of the craft. What was odd was that though he had repeated this action several times in the last few days, both on this boat and simply gazing around the city, this was the first time that there were no earbuds, no chattering background, no objective he was supposed to accomplish. Nothing to impress upon his mind other than nature.

He hadn't resisted marine biology like his brothers. He had liked the idea of studying the ocean, actually. Penguins. His mom had been happy he chose a degree so similar to her own field of study in conservation marine ecology. Starting work for her had been easy. Lab researches were fun. The truth was like a sharp blade too. 

Far from shouting he was the king of the world, he was ready to lean over and tell the sea that it was just going to get worse from here. A hundred corporations in the world were ruining the planet for billions of humans and millions of species. That in fact the mission of the boat was primarily to document how money basically was motivating environmental collapse for the benefit of a few, and most civilians were so preoccupied with day to day survival they simply submitted to the changing world, the rise of authoritarianism—“fuck you,” he said, almost able to see his reflection in the water. And then there was his life. He had been thinking about thumbs and rocking pelvic bones when he should have been remembering that he almost got killed by a fucking car and hadn’t cared, he literally hadn’t remembered the severity of the moment until they were in the car. 

Something strange happened then. Luke started laughing, staring over the railing. “You know what my problem is, I almost died a couple of days ago. I just walked out in front of a car. I could have died and it didn’t occur to me until last night that anything wrong had happened. My fuck up I mean my hookup pulled me out of the way and I was just looking at the sky and wondering if there was an alley where I could fuck him.”

Luke smiled severely, almost triumphantly for a moment, and then his face relaxed into a tired, unhappy expression as his excitement fell. It wasn’t that he wanted to die. He just didn’t seem to particularly feel anything surrounding his own life. And his mom thought he was a whore, probably, he suspected so. That he would die by STD or wasted, too distracted in college to get anywhere, but it was fun. And he wasn’t entirely free of precaution. Never in his life had he let himself into a dangerous situation with another man until the car episode a few nights before. It was wild, actually, he was wild, to go from something so life altering back to normalcy as though there’d been a second character he’d been playing. Who the hell is this guy? Now he was flirting with himself. Still reveling in himself, and a little bit of a smile back on his face, because who could save such a bad man? He ambled up to his mother just as she was looking around to call him off the vessel. They would depart tomorrow.

______________________________________

The last few weeks before the trip had been chaotic for Michael. He’d had to explain his six month disappearance from Australia to his family, and there had been tears and negotiations with his mother ensuring he would always be safe, always be on the look out for danger, etc. there had been thermal pairs of underwear that needed to be bought, Japanese thermotech, winter coats, different types of shoes, medication recommendations the Hemmings lab had sent over. But there had also been two weekend trips down to Melbourne, and he had enjoyed a wild time with Ashton and Calum, who turned out to be quite chummy. They played video games and walked around the city, getting food and drinks, having a general good time. 

He was beginning to feel like a somewhat remote but important part of the group. He knew everyone’s name in the Hemmings lab, and though he hadn’t met him, he knew of Luke, Dr. Hemming’s son, from some of the stories that Ashton and Calum were telling him. Apparently, Luke was hardly seen after 4pm on Friday’s until Monday. Besides his early feelings of dislike for Luke, he didn’t have much to think about him amidst all the other preparations and activities they undertook. Luke sounded like a fairly normal bloke. And he like FIFA.

The morning of the boat disembarking came pushing through misty dawns into clear blue and sun shining sky. The air was warm and filled with the briny smell that accompanied the presence of the ocean. The sounds of waves frothing up onto the nearby beach mad a rhythmic background under the yelled protests of one boys. 

Speed dealer sunglasses were pressed into the bridge of his nose. Ashton nearly stumbled over one of his duffel bags for the fourth time since stepping onto the gangplank. “I cAn WALk On mY OWn—I CaN wALk—StOP,” Because Calum and Michael were shoving him from behind, forcing him forward uncomfortably quickly, backpacks and duffels on their backs and in their hands as well.

On deck, Ashton and Michael abruptly paused, distracted because this was the first time they had ever been on the boat. The metallic shell of the ship was painted in a thick, waterproof white here on top. A few scientists and crew members were to their left near the bow of the ship, discussing travel plans and equipping scientific gear just under the back deck where the expensive equipment would be sheltered. A filling station for scuba tanks was tucked into the corner, along with eight tanks. Calum, who was already familiar with the vessel, pushed past them, heading for a white, rounded door with a porthole cut into its face. In another moment, Ashton and Michael were hurrying after him.

“Where are our rooms?”

“Liz said A4 and A5, right here,” Calum exclaimed in delight, pushing a door on the left open and peering excitedly into the room.

“I’m going to say this now, I don’t want to share with either of you,” Michael warned.

“I don’t want to sleep with you either,” Ashton agreed.

Michael pouted.

Calum patted the back of Michael’s head haphazardly. “I got you, baby.”

Ashton peered from behind him, looking over his shoulder into the room. “It’s actually looking comfortable.”

“Top!”

“Calum, no!” Ashton fought his way into the room ahead of Calum. Michael rounded the corner and peered into the cabin. There were two portholes in the far wall. Two bunk beds, one overlaying the other, were carved into the wall. Presently, both Calum and Ashton were trying to gain dominance in the wall.

“We’re important…scientists,” Michael stated dryly.

He ambled to the window and peered out. Someone with a camera had been wandering by, but on seeing Michael, she stopped several feet away, aimed the camera and snapped a photo of him peering out onto the deck and harbor, with Calum and Ashton’s butts fighting for control of the top bunk behind him.

“Stop fighting guys,” Michael told them, tugging Calum by the back of his shirt.

“I guess I win,” Ashton looked smug. Calum whined.

Now Michael went and dropped his things off in A5. It was similar to the other one, with two bunk beds built deep into the wall and two portholes looking out onto Melbourne. He pushed open the door to the bathroom. The room was two by four feet, equipped with an open shower, and drain in the center of the floor, tiny toilet and sink. He wondered if people on boats tended to shrink in size.

He noticed the beds were already fitted with sheets. Several linens were folded at the end of the bed. Michael was thankful for this. The housing was unseasonably drafty. Michael tried lying down on the bed. The pillow was nearly non-existent, as though Michael had laid down on a bed without one. It wouldn’t do for six months. Michael wondered if he should ask for another when he had a spark of inspiration.

Ashton was still sprawled across his bed, while Calum was on his tummy in the lower bunk when Michael poked his head in. “Don’t the pillows suck?”

“Yeah,” Calum agreed without looking around.

“Hey, I would get better pillows if you give me your keys,” Michael said.

Calum tossed Michael the keys. “Be back before we launch.”

“Don’t let go Jack!” Ashton shrieked.

“I’ll never let go,” Michael bellowed from the hallway, causing a few people to look at him in concern as they made their way into their own rooms. He started sprinting down the hall as fast as he could without crashing into anyone.

“Don’t start with titanic references now,” Calum protested.

Their voices faded as Michael slipped out of the heavily air-conditioned living quarters and shot towards the gangway. A research assistant had just made it to the top and nearly collided with Michael, who yelled, “Shit,” as he veered away.

“No problem,” the guy said. He was wearing red converse, black jeans, and had a black hood pulled over his head. Michael blinked once, maneuvered around him, and took off. It was about seven to ten minutes to make it to Calum’s flat. It was seven-thirty now, so he had enough time feasibly to make it there and back before launch. Once inside, he found a bag and stuffed pillows into it. He glanced around the place, wondering when or if he’d ever go back there. Surely he would. Calum was a friend.

He was back on the boat at 7:51, to his relief. Michael went first to Calum and Ashton’s room.

“You made it,” Ashton looked around from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Calum held up a hand and one after the other, Michael tossed him his apartment keys and a pillow, then got close enough to Ashton to stuff the pillow into his face. Ashton protested and leapt to his feet, snatching the pillow from Michael and attempting to beat him with it, all the while shouting, “Hey, that’s not nice!” while Michael stooped and covered his head, rushing for the door with the remaining pillow.

Ashton got him because the room to his own dorm had been closed since he had left. One quick slap with the pillow around the head, and Ashton retreated back into his own cabin.

Huffing, Michael went into his room. There was a new duffel bag and silver-grey suitcase on the floor. He could faintly hear the sink running, and in another moment, the research assistant from earlier was ducking out of the bathroom. His first thought was that the guy must be around 6'4, tall, slim, a bit feminine. 

“This must be a surprise. There’s some random guy in your room,” the guy joked. It wasn't that funny so Michael didn't recognize it was a joke until after it was appropriate to laugh. He wondered for a moment if he was supposed to know who the guy was. “I’m Luke, I’ll be rooming with ya.”

“Michael,” he stuck out his hand and Luke shook it. “So why are you here?”

“Mum wanted me to room with the other undergrads. And Ashton.”

Michael processed that for a moment. “You’re Liz Hemmings’s son.”

Luke bobbed his head.

Pride swelled in Michael and he smirked a little. “I have your job.”

For a moment, Luke didn’t comprehend. And then the wires connected. Michael had applied for the seagull job. But Luke took that job, so the other guy had been denied. Then Michael had gotten the research position on the boat, and Luke had abandoned his research position in Melbourne, and now Luke was…why was he there? Using his mom for a free boat trip to the South Pole?

“She said there was a replacement,” Luke acknowledged blandly.

“What are you doing?” Michael was going to have the upper hand over Luke.

“I’m doing photography.”

“Photography.”

“Yep.”

Michael stared at Luke, not sure whether or not they were familiar enough for Michael to insult him. He thought he could maybe get away with something cryptic. Probably he should just let it go. “If you ask, I think they’d still let you collect seagull poop, just don’t store it here.”

Luke pouted and as Michael started sniggering, he broke into a grim smile. “Maybe.”

“I took the top bunk,” Michael jumped onto the top bunk.

“Don’t care,” Luke sat on the bottom and craned his neck up to look at Michael’s smug face. Next, he pulled his legs up and disappeared from view. 

This had now become a tricky predicament for Michael. He had originally jumped in the top bunk only to show off his evident superiority to Luke. Now though, he wanted to go explore the boat, see Ashton and Calum, talk to the scientists and crew, and find outlets for charging electronics. Luke seemed content to scroll through his phone and not talk with Michael, who wasn’t sure that he liked Luke. The wavy blonde seemed distant and not especially enthusiastic about the cruise. But if he just jumped out of the top bunk, Luke would know he was just showing off the entire time, and he couldn’t have him having the satisfaction of that.

Michael was saved the embarrassment by the comical entrance of Calum, who craned his head around the doorframe like a movie spy with Ashton just behind him. “It’s a wild Lucas.”

“Calum!” Luke said with dry enthusiasm, raising a hand for Calum to clasp with a phone in his other hand. “Hi Ashton.”

“Why are you guys laying in bed?” Ashton inquired at both of them. “There’s a whole boat to see and we’ve only done the deck once.”

“You went without me--?” Michael trailed off into a pout.

“You wanted PilLOwS mate. You got that. Cal and I got the deck.”

“Dude, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it back.”

“No…it’s fine.”

“You guys have better ones?” Luke looked around at them hopefully and everyone focused on Michael.

“Yeah there’s a fourth in the bag,” he admitted, and Luke glanced around where Michael had left it by the door. Ashton went over and kicked it closer to the bed, and Luke stretched his long body forward and snatch at the bag for a cushion.

“This is sweet,” he said.

“Now your bed is comfortable,” Ashton assured him.

“Come. See,” Calum turned around and grabbed Ashton’s forearm. In what almost seemed a loving gesture, Calum rolled over Luke and pulled Ashton too onto the lower bunk.

Michael groaned into his phone, half collapsed on the top bunk. “Not this again.”

Michael felt a hand reach up for his ankle and automatically hopped out of bed and dived on top of them, knocking Ashton pretty much flat across Luke.

“OW.”

“CALUM, YOUR ASS CHEEKS ARE PRESSED INTO MY LEG.”

“WHAT’S THAT SMELL?”

“MICHAEL SAT ON ME AND I FARTED.”

“It’s kind of nice.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’ve been wanting a reason to say this, Luke, shut up.”

“STOP KICKING, OW.”

“YOU’RE SO SPIDER LIKE.”

“How many legs do you have?”

“Not the first time someone’s asked me that.”

“OW.”

“STOP SHIFTING CALUM” Calum receives a slap to the bottom. “JUST LAY DOWN.”

“ISN’T THIS GAY?”

“NO, IT’S NOT, THIS IS WHAT HETERONORMATIVE FRIENDSHIPs LOOK LIKE.”

“OK.”

Luke was trapped under the three other pretty much grown men. Michael was poised halfway over him and Ashton’s lower half. Calum was sinking down into a crevasse by Luke’s shoulders and where Ashton was struggling not to slip down onto the bed.

“Well this was stupid.”

“I think you cut off circulation to my feet, Michael,” Luke told him. Michael was thinking more and more that Luke was kind of needy af.

“I like cuddle parties,” Calum admitted, looking sincere.

“Shut up, Calum,” Ashton groaned, trapped against the wall.

“We’re going to the Antarctic,” Michael reminded them excitedly. “We’re going to see penguins, scuba, visit remote islands—.” Luke was struggling upright, and Michael slipped off the bed, looking eagerly at the door.

So, they all got out of Luke’s bed and headed out of the living quarters, all of them glancing down the stairway leading to the second floor of the ship. This time, since no one had suggested adventuring down, they didn’t explore there.

Luke asked, “Has anyone else noticed how incredibly small the bathrooms are?”

“I won’t be able to tweet from the toilet unless I scrunch up my legs.” Ashton sighed.

“You’re kind of quirky.”

“Don’t you tweet from the toilet?”

Michael pushed the door open. The engine had turned on while they had walked, and only two crew members were left on the dock, untying the boat before shooting up the walkway.

From the briefing in the google shared drive, Michael knew there were roughly six or seven crew members and twelve or so scientists… and the one photographer. Besides the two lads in flannels that had undocked the ship, he didn’t have any idea who else was possibly on the crew. But most of the scientists, in a mixture of tan knee-length shorts and fleece vests, were standing around the bow, looking over gear and watching Melbourne ease away from them.

Liz waved at them as they joined the scientists in the back. “Hi boys, getting settled?”

“This is awesome!” Ashton tells her.

“So I chose those last two rooms thinking that they would work the best, given how we had to arrange everyone—,” she seemed to be worrying but they were quick to assure her that they were going to do well with the arrangement.

Luke wasn’t listening, he’s reaching over to another researcher and discussing some project.

“Do you want us to do anything?” Michael asked.

“Yes, set up the datasheets if you have not already and stay on top of anything anyone submits to you. We start water sampling at the dolphin current. Ashton, we’re going to be doing a presentation every night, do you think you can throw something together about your research? For tonight. Calum, it looks like Bob over there is having trouble with filling the sample tank, could you go and see who needs help?”

Having lost Calum, and with Luke wandering off, Michael and Ashton continued together beyond the distracted Liz—up a flight of stairs to the dining quarters and top deck lounge.

“Where is the navigation room?”

“There’s a door on the other side of the boat going up there.”

“Ah.”

They riffled through the miscellaneous books and magazines on a shelf screwed into the wall. “Histories of Tahiti.”

And

“Sea Slug Identification Guide”

“Scuba Diving on Nitrox”

And “So you think you’re gay.”

Ashton had put a hand over his mouth at the last one to suppress his giggles. “What? So, we have sea slugs—.”

“And now you’re pretty sure you’re gay,” Michael explained logically, snorting. “Yeah. What the heck is this doing here?” he took it from Ashton and flipped it open onto a picture of three drawn silhouetted women doing something unseemly. Both boys screamed. Michael dropped the book. Ashton had collapsed backwards onto a padded bench and Michael was on the floor in hysterics. “We have to show the others,” Ashton gasped.

“No, no let’s surprise them,” Michael was giggling, coming up with a plan. “We should just slip it into someone’s bag and see what they think.”

Ashton was laughing hard again. “Oh my god, Michael.”

Stifling laughter, they bent over the book again as Michael flipped through it. “I’ve seen that before.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Creed was talking about it in The Office, something about the Love face of the Monkey.”

“Now look at this doggy style,” Michael pointed. “This is far more traditional.”

“True.”

“Hey,” Michael and Ashton looked around at an impish brunette guy walking up to them with a woman their age. He introduced them. “I’m the Captain, Ship Captain Niall Horan.”

“Shouldn’t you be steering the ship?” Michael said.

“Nope, sometimes you just let your ships sail,” everyone was staring at him in concern, so Niall added, “Me top skipper’s takin over,” Niall assured them. “So, you found the gay book.”

“I was about to ask about that,” the woman commented. Michael offered it to her, but she didn’t seem that interested. Ashton started snickering and she rolled her eyes.

“Our poopdecker seaman bought it somewhere and it’s been a classic ever since,” Niall explained.

“Seaman, I get it,” Ashton laughed.

“We’re going to be having a lot of fun with this,” Michael told Niall.

“Not too much fun,” Niall said dryly. “I’ll be blamin you for rockin the boat next.”

“Thanks captain, we’ll be sure to keep the gay noises down,” Michael said dryly, and Niall shrugged, saluted them and walked away.

The woman whispered, “He likes noises,” but a sharp look from niall told them that he had heard her. She squeaked and ran away while Niall chased after her, laughing.

“He’s a bit weird,” Ashton said.

“I’m guessing the crew’s weird too,” Michael huffed, standing up and tucking the book under his shirt. They walked around the upperdeck, admiring Australia’s shoreline as the boat moved along. Small islands breached the endless expanse of sea far off to the west. They took a couple pictures, together and separate shots, like Michael pretending to step off the balcony or re-enacting the titanic.

By the time they were ready to leave, a number of the small crew of scientists and sailors had come into the dining area. Ashton recalled to Michael that there was supposed to be a scheduled meeting at this time. They scooted into a booth and waved at Calum and Luke when the other two came to join them.

“Hi, I’m Liam,” a boy with close cropped hair that seemed around the same age as Michael or Calum was standing in front of them and talking with a British accent. “Welcome aboard our ship for the next six months,” he paused for a smattering of applause. “We are hired crew, that’s true, but everyone has had years of experience, and I’m sure we’ll be able to get along well. The boat is in great condition. We’ve coordinated a few stops for gas at certain ports…please consult your schedules.”

“South Africa,” Luke mouthed, looking at an unfolded sheet of paper from his pocket covered in grids. Michael felt a somewhat irrational flutter of annoyance. Luke was probably excited, but still. This was Luke after all. 

“Safety. Please do not lean too far over the railings. You do not think you need to tell people that, and then you are turning a 750 foot boat around to go half a mile back to where we left Charlie, or Bill—,” Liam sighed. “Our chef, Harry, will cook three meals a day. He’s….not here. I mean in the lounge he's somewhere on the ship, that's a good lad, we'll be seeing him a lot actually. Breakfast goes from 7 to 9, lunch from 11:30 to 1:30, and dinner from 6:00 to 8:00. Louis, tell them what you do.”

“Thank you, Liam. I’m in charge of room maintenance and housekeeping, so basically, everyone should take care of their personal spaces, but if there are any problems please do not hesitate to reach out to me, my cabin is B12 and I am extremely approachable, like the killer rabbit in Monty Python.”

Niall introduced himself then, mentioned there were another two or three members of crew running around and turned the floor over to Liz.

“Hi everyone,” she smiled at the chorus of ‘Hi Liz’ that came back at her. “The next ten days aren’t going to be labor intensive. There’s a game room downstairs in the belly of the ship—.”

The boys perked up very quickly. Some of the researchers who noticed laughed.

“—but after _these first ten days_ ,” Liz continued, looking at her son and his newfound friends. “We’ll be at our first destinations. There’ll be dives three times a day, countless water sample collections, we’ll be hiking up on the islands, taking carbon dioxide and greenhouse gas tests, and more, everyone will be very, very busy. Back on the boat, we’ll start going between destinations doing data analysis and discussion. We went over roles on land but I’ll have individual briefings with all of you before we really, truly begin.”

Everyone introduced themselves. Over the next few days, Michael became more acquainted with everyone than he did during that initial introduction. There was a graduate student from Liz’s lab named Audrey who was rather snarky. The first time Michael talked to her, she asked him if zebra fish regularly used his hair for camouflage when they dived. Michael made a mental note to change his hair color. There were three technicians, the youngest (Olivia) in her mid to late twenties, the middle in her early thirties (Helen) and the oldest (Jim) nearly sixty years of age. Michael ended up sitting next to them for dinner on their second night, which escalated into a wild night of cards and booze and arguments about fish science beyond anything Michael had ever heard. 

The English speakers had been responsible for recommending the ship’s crew. There was Gemma Styles, an assistant professor at the university of Leeds, and another professor of graduate marine studies, Rick Griffins. Rick Griffins made a foul impression of Michael as someone who had learned what he thoughts was justice and never reconsidered it again. Ashton said he knew both of them. Gemma was quick-witted and sharp eyed.

“We’re going to play scrabble,” Luke was passing behind Ashton, who was bent over one of the lab benches near the sink in the following days. 

“Oh, I’m coming!”

“What did you leave here, Ashton?”

He spun around. Gemma was standing next to the counter stonily. The freezer was ajar, water leaking onto the floor. Ashton cussed. Luke went to join the others sniggering to himself at Ashton's misfortune. Later, Ashton didn't look particularly bad tempered about it. No one was attentive enough, or they would have seen him passing a few glances at the girl. 

The two American scientists were old time friends. One was from the University of Santa Cruz in California—a researcher named Dr. Caroline Cherry who had been involved with other trips to the Antarctic. Once as the chief scientist on a cruise, and another time as part of a global ocean census that had involved thousands of science collaborators all over the world.

The other was a progressive researcher at the Woodshole Oceanographic Institute in Massachusetts, Dr. Sylvia Monti. Dr. Monti had given a presentation on the third night on board—when everyone was beginning to lose their minds. She presented “research” taken while on her honeymoon. Dr. Hemmings was amused but not impressed. Dr. Monti had already given a presentation the night before on Whale sharks, so Dr. Hemmings decided to let it slide. Everyone was anticipating Dr. Griffins ominous “currents of the world with a focus on the subpolar regions” lecture expected on the fourth night.

For the first day and a half, it had felt to Michael as though they were moving through a confused blur. Everything was very new, and everyone was a stranger. Everyone’s roles and patterns hadn’t been settled down yet, such that. everyone was still trying to learn what they liked and what they were expected to do. Who could be trusted. Well, his boys could be. Mostly.

They had discovered the “game room,” a rounded-corner shaped room consisting of several rubberband bound boxes of puzzles and board games, a chest of abused books, paper, and the saving graces, air hockey and foosball. It was enough to hold their attentions for most of the afternoon and usually for part of the evening as well. Mornings were slow moving ordeals spent primarily to themselves, though once or twice, Michael had ventured out with Calum or Ashton out onto the ship to watch nature billow by. A few times throughout the day there was an opportunity to spot whales and other interesting organisms. One of the scientists from America had taken to bird watching.

Michael had also discovered he’d rather have nothing to do with Luke Hemmings if he could help it, which a lot of the time he could not, as there was only 750 feet of ship, and he thought Dr. Hemmings would be upset with him if Michael were to push her son overboard. 

To Michael, his roommate wasn’t interested in being friends. Or Luke had changed his mnd and wanted to be friends but Michael was so over it. Luke didn’t expect himself to help anyone, but he seemed to expect everyone to help him. He never apologized to Michael or Liz for the grief he put them through. He didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong at all. Luke kept largely to himself, or he went the complete opposite way, in random bursts, becoming loud and excitable like a fan girl, doing things that interrupted whatever atmosphere Michael had been enjoying with his randomness. Michael decided to intentionally went out of his way to annoy Luke now. If for nothing else than to amuse himself. 

So as they settled into a pattern in those first few days of waking up late, having a late breakfast and going to do a little bit of work or to the gym before retiring to their phones, television, and games for the rest of the day, hostilities grew. It was funny to Michael to see how it itched at Luke when Michael would do something undermining and disrespectful. All of Luke’s retaliations were far less heated and far more cold, calculated maneuvers done out of revenge. Cal and Ash would shake their heads or utterly ignore than ongoing battle of wills in favor of anything more interesting. 

Mostly it was good times with the boys, running around the boat on meaningless and forgettable adventures, eating a lot, and fooling around on their phones. More than once they all ended up in the same bed, or someone would be lying somewhere and get collapsed on.

Ashton suggested they all go to the bathroom together later one day. It sounded dumb but Calum and Michael had already squeezed into A4’s tiny, tiny bathroom to brush their teeth. He didn’t really suggest they all go in, it’s more that he went, “Move boys, me too.”

And because everyone was in the bathroom, Luke rushed in. “Public shower!”

“This is not a public shower,” Calum protested. He turned around in the extremely cramped space, knocking into Michael’s back with his elbow, and slapped Luke’s hand away from the shower knob. Then everyone was moving around, jostling. Ashton turned off the lights and Luke screamed like a girl.

“AH.”

“OW.”

“ORGY TIME.”

…

“STOP HUMPING ME.”

“Wrong person.”

“Calum is that you?!”

“Sorry I was trying to feel up Luke.”

“What?”

“Where are you?”

“Michael, what are you doing?”

“You know, you have really nice legs.”

“Michael’s far gone, mate.”

“I feel trapped.”

“We didn’t check if anyone has claustrophobia.”

“If I say boo would all of you scream?”

“No that’s dumb.”

“Boo.”

“AH.” There was a general splash as the bar of soap on the sink counter went into the toilet. 

There was a knock on the room door. Someone managed to open the bathroom door and they looked out. One of the crew members was standing there with pretty black eyelashes and wide dark eyes. It was the poopdecker seaman the Niall had been talking about. Only Ashton remembered who he was.

“What are you boys up to?”

“Orgy,” Michael explained, and all the other boys immediately protested.

“We got a noise complaint. It’s nearly one in the morning, go to bed.”

There were four rueful “okay’s” and the crew member walked on, looking back over his shoulder as he went away.

* * *

Another night around ten-thirty they had all retired to their rooms, pleasantly exhausted. Liz had noticed how combustible they were and threatened the undergraduates with extra work so they didn’t distract Ashton anymore, since he “ought to know better” than to spend most of his days away from the distractions of civilized existence having fun. Now Michael was going to take a shower and play some games, quietly, before passing out. Luke was on his phone, as normal, with headphones on. He’d lined the wall under one of the portholes with several bottles of nail polish, which Michael found intriguing.

At the moment, Michael had a towel around his neck looking ‘cool.’ “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Uh-huh,” Luke still had his nose buried in his phone, sprawled across his bed.

Michael noticed the way he was splayed. “You look like a floppy noodle.”

Lazily, Luke flipped him off and continued browsing through his device.

Michael opened the bathroom door. “Holy—Why is there pink underwear in here?”

There was no reaction from the bedroom.

“Luke, do you have pink underwear with—rainbow unicorns? Shit this is some manly stuff, dude.”

“Just take your fucking shower.”

“Where can I get a pair of these? I want to look just as fabulous.”

“You can borrow them, just take a fucking shower.”

“Don’t be gross, ew.”

Luke shrugged, sighed, and sunk back onto his cushions, unconcerned about the prospect of sharing underwear apparently. Michael made a note that he was weird and kind of gay. Not that all gays share underwear…nevermind.

* * *

Ashton to Calum: “Do you have red three’s?” 

“Go fish.”

Michael to Luke: “Go sleep with the fish.”

Calum to Ashton: “Do you have any green four’s?”

“Yeah.”

Luke to Michael: “Aw yeah? Try to sleep without snoring.”

Michael: “Wow, that insult cut me deep.”

Ashton: “Michael, do you have any red two’s?”

“No.”

Ashton: ….

“What?”

Calum: “You have to say it.”

Michael: “For fuck’s sake, Go Fish.”

Luke: “Does anyone want to go to the kitchen’s?”

Michael: “Are you that hungry cause we literally ate an hour ago. Keep your mind on the fucking game.”

Luke: “You mean like how you are?”

Ashton looking at his cards: “Calum, why is Michael so mean to Luke?”

Calum: “Go fish.”

But it would come to a head. 

* * *

“Hiya mate,” Ashton called in. “Liz is going to come up with a small project for the undergraduates in an hour. Something for you all to present before we start doing serious work.”

“Put some clothes on,” Calum chided, hurling a baseball cap at Michael.

“Sounds good,” Michael replied. He was naked, lying on his stomach on the top bunk and playing Nintendo switch. Luke blinked at him from the doorway and shrugged. Michael was too busy to notice.

The long-legged man slipped into the lower bunk and talked to the ceiling of bunk bed above him. “Did you eat?”

“Nah,” Michael said. Alternatively, it occurred to Luke, Michael hadn’t had any recent enlightened experiences of appreciation. “Did you like the book?”

He and Ashton had been taking it in turns over the past few days of the voyage to hide the “So you think you’re gay” book in Calum and Luke’s things. Calum had gotten into it as well, hiding it for Michael or Ashton to discover. Sometimes one of them would go to lift their plate to clear at dinner time and discover the book had been acting as a coaster. Other times, Ashton and Michael would harmonize while reading out passages about how sometimes people only got confused and weren’t actually gay. Yet other times, they would text photos and homoerotic messages. 

Occasionally, Luke would remind them that he was actually gay and this might be offensive. Michael would say he’s bisexual and he thought none of it was offensive so Luke could stick it you know where, and Luke would say he did know where and did Michael want to now or later, and Calum and Ashton would be asking them fervently to stop. It was all wildly inappropriate.

“I loved it. Especially your text. I think I’ll know how gay sex works soon enough.”

Michael snorted. Now that he was humored, Luke pressed on with what was on his mind, “I’ve been researching gentoo penguins all morning and that made me the happiest,” Luke tried. Michael was focused on his game and barely heard him. “Their diets are high in salt, like mine, but they have salt glands above their eyes where the salt collects, and then the saline concentrate drips out of their body from the tip of the beak.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you studying Gentoos?”

Luke’s heart was sinking a little. He couldn’t tell Michael about his inspiration to be a better person if so far nothing had impressed him, “We’re on a penguin expedition.”

“They’re not even the coolest penguin. Why are you wasting your time on them?”

There was a pause where the tension swelled, and Luke braced himself. “I don’t care that you’re naked. I’ll fight you.”

Michael squeaked in surprise. “What? No, let me put on shorts.”

Luke was already rising out of his bunk, a dangerously focused look in his ice blue eyes. Michael had no time to put any clothes but threw his bed sheet over himself as Luke climbed up onto the top bunk. They started ‘fighting’ to the best of their ability. Michael was trying to either get above or push Luke off the bunk and Luke desperately held on while taking jabs at Michael. It was funny at first for Michael. Luke was too big and too lean. His back was practically pressed to the ceiling. He managed to knock Luke down to his right elbow and then started moving to pin him to the mattress, which put Michael at risk of falling off, the blanket slipping off of him.

“What’s wrong with you,” Michael half-laughed.

“I’ve always loved penguins!" Luke screeched, struggling to regain dominance over Michael. “For years I forgot that but now I’m doing what I used to love!”

“So, what, do you want me to congratulate you?” Michael panted, trying to push one of Luke’s legs off the top bunk. “Research is good, I’m glad you’re doing it. Maybe Liz will let you pick up penguin shit with me.”

Luke flipped Michael off of him in one energetic motion and finally pinned Michael to the mattress. Michael gasped and Luke muttered, “Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you,” Michael’s eyes were very bright, daring Luke to go on.

Luke wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “No, fuck you, Michael.”

“That’s a really original thought,” Michael observed sarcastically. “What the fuck is your problem today.”

Disgusted, Luke sat back with Michael under him. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s a loose wire and I’m not me anymore.”

“Then figure it out,” Michael sounded exasperated. The blanket moved slightly around Michael’s hips. They both looked down and at each other. Luke’s eyes had gone wide in perplexed astonishment. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shit.”

Calum came to the open door. “What’re you guys up to?”

“Fighting,” Michael’s voice had risen half an octave. Luke didn’t seem to know whether to laugh or start flaunting his power over the other. He was still crouched over Michael’s legs that were twisted in the bedding. A smile was splitting over his face, and Michael would have tried to kick him but he didn’t want _anything_ to become more obvious.

“We were thinking about going up early for afternoon snack? Before talking with Liz.”

Slightly aroused, Luke hopped off of Michael, and looked back up at the top bunk. “Fuck you.” And he lingered long enough to give Michael a dirty look. The guy wasn't sure how to interpret that. It was as though he knew to leave, Michael thought, as Luke softly closed the door behind him. And then he realized, Luke had known, maybe had suspected Michael had been harboring secret thoughts for a while, the way he'd been watching Luke walk around, commenting on his appearance and clothes, the excessive cruelty and jealousy, he’d made it so obvious—. Inadvertently, the irritating of Luke had slipped into flirting without Michael even realizing it had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been reading a lot about the music industry, about 5SOS. Modest! is a bit oppressive. The band has adjusted. They love each other and music more than they hate Modest!
> 
> Luke is very, very satirical about it. Very clever. He likes and hates being a puppet. Ashton loves himself too much to like lying. He does it but struggles to forgive himself afterward because it violates personal honesty. He likes to call lies out when it can be a "joke." Michael is so in love with Luke, but he doesn't have the pride we remember him for having. He probably thinks there'll eventually come an interview where he'll give it all away. Maybe he wants it. Sometimes he does actually give it away with a look. Calum tries to avoid confrontation and get what he wants. 
> 
> Chaos. 
> 
> Will you marry me?  
> Another good pick up line.


	3. High lows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael

It was a weird jack off session for Michael. He was trying to get the image of Luke straddling his hardly covered body out of his head. Looking down at the same time he had when they noticed Michael’s cock had started lifting like a flag up a pole, what a thrill when Luke was looking surprised and then smug like he’d wanted that reaction from any boy trapped under him. Did things like that just _happen_ to everyone? _I hope Luke isn’t doing that for everyone_.

He concentrated his thoughts on an old Knotty girl magazine he’d found in boxes of donations for a local public library. A couple minutes later most of the pressure was relieved and he’d used his old underwear to clean himself off. That was disgusting, but the fastest solution. He better do some fucking laundry soon.

So, he had a little crush on his boss’s son. Long legged, fluffy, shy, quirky, a little irresponsible. Maybe a lot irresponsible, there was something he still hadn’t figured out about the guy. Fuck he had good legs. Michael closed his eyes back on the pillow and smiled to himself. He was fucked. But research might be spicy now. Not just fun, now it was _fun_. He would get all the good tension that comes with being aware of someone else. And…Luke already knew…before—Michael had….Michael felt slightly deflated. No choice now but to put on some fucking clothes, go upstairs for something to eat, and face it. Maybe Luke would be too embarrassed to look at him.

His skin was crawling but not from the chilly air as he left the living quarters and found the door to the staircase leading up to the kitchen and lounge.

Ashton and Calum were on their phones at a table with a plate of sliced fruit in front of them. Neither of them looked around as the boy approached.

“Is this it?” Michael complained, looking down at the fruit, his heart racing at the thought of _where’s luke? Where?_

Calum looked up at him. “Yeah, the chef said dinner is going to be heavier.”

“The chef should shove it,” Michael grumbled, looking around and spotting the relieving plastic jars of snacks kept in the far corner. He grabbed a couple packs of cookies and went back to the table, still muttering mutinously.

Calum scrunched up his face at Michael, as though he couldn’t understand what Michael was so worked up about, and returned to his phone.

It was twenty minutes before Dr. Hemmings came up the stairs with Luke trailing her on his phone. “Hi,” she smiled around as Luke slipped into the left side of the booth next to Calum. Michael felt slightly disappointed. “We’ve been getting a lot of work with the technicians done this morning. All three of them could use extra help, so if you boys have time, I hope I can count on you to be down there.”

All three of them nodded. Michael thought about making a joke about how the photographer was probably more available than the rest of them but decided to shut it.

“Irwin,” Liz waited until Ashton was looking directly at her. “the deadline for the Conservation Ecology conference in February is tonight.”

Ashton looked surprised. “No.”

“Get on it,” Liz sighed and put a hand through her hair as Ashton nearly vaulted over the table to get out. “There’s been too much distraction and having fun.”

“You said we had ten days before we had to do serious work,” Luke was resting his chin on his palm, looking bored. It irritated Michael.

Then they had to focus; Dr. Hemmings said many smart words very fast.

“So now we’re going to do a project to pass the time,” Liz said brightly. “My lab just published a paper in the last three months about anthropogenic effects of trophic distribution in the water column in the Antarctic region. Calum, did you read it?”

“I read it,” Luke asserted, while Calum let out a sheepish “…yes.”

Liz sighed. “By the end of this cruise, I hope all of you are more diligent.”

They all agreed silently. They should improve.

“Now, it would be too easy to give one scientific paper to three people and have you dissect and present it,” Liz went on.

“No, it wouldn’t. It’s a meta-analysis. It’s like fifty pages long,” Luke insisted. “We aren’t good workers.”

“But you can be. You fit in those jeans after all,” Calum pointed out.

Michael made a repressed laughter snort sound. Luke had his lips pressed into a line as though suppressing a smile. Dr. Hemmings looked like she didn’t know how to respond to the situation. The corners of her lips were turned up, but her mouth was agape.

“Anyway,” she went on tightly. “Luke made an interesting suggestion before we came up here. Since the cruise is really studying the effects of climate change on penguin population distribution, find additional research to tie in with the Hemmings lab paper on the changing distribution of penguin population in the south pole and surrounding regions. Due on the tenth night. Before we start heavy research.”

“That’s six days from now,” Michael noted.

“Correct, Clifford,” she flexed an eyebrow. Michael wondered if he’d said something stupid. “I’ll send the paper to all of you with the parameters. I do think apart from giving you something to do, it would be good for the entire team to learn about this before we actually spend time interacting with all the types of penguins we’re meeting.”

“I can’t wait,” Luke looked happily at his mother. Michael was annoyed again that Luke’s reactions were directed at anyone but him. So, Luke had been embarrassed by Michael’s stupid erection. Fine. Screw him.

“I have a question about—,” Calum droned on, and Michael looked down at his hands, picked at his nails. Time kept moving. He drowned in the seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> I love you
> 
> The best pick up line


End file.
